Luyện nghe bài hát Color My World Mine

I once met a man who himself not to dream
he seems to have seen was a glimpse of everything
He's been painting pictures on canvas age thirteen
And claims he only in the mind of a higher being
And I enjoy his work; mostly scenic
But each one is focused on an easel where the man paints himself himself
And all that's in his visual
He said this was the only way he make himself real
Ever since he could remember, he had one nightmare
But until ten years ago, it didn't matter
It of loud, distorted sounds echoing off the concrete
He ran on top of it in attempt to reach a
Now sometimes, get so close but never touch his destination
Which caused him much frustration he didn't know what it meant
And by the end of the dream, he saw the scene from a eye
to witness his dead body laying on the cement

It was only to his dead body laying on the cement
At it freaked him out, but after a while he grew content
So he thought, "It's a dream," and kept living his life
Writing his soul on the canvas 'cause it sheds his planet
And it goes on and on like space and time, nothing odd
It's not that he didn't believe, he just didn't of God
His experience was one I couldn't
'Till I stopped detective and listened to him as a friend
He

He once saw a painting that his whole life story
It was that he knew he was the art of divinity
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
A brush stroke of the gods made him one note in their
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He for himself and not the rest of humanity
He saw a painting that told his whole life story
And I that I'm not real
God just me

like I said
About ten years ago, the event changed his whole reality
place on his monthly trip to the local art gallery
It was there where he studied his
And there where he carried his sanity to a hole and buried it forever
It was a mysterious day
The place was empty
And he got chills his spine just being present in the scene
On the wall, there was a picture that looked
And when he got close, his stopped
cause he saw it was a painting of his
It was a of his dream
His on a runway
By a to an airplane with its propellers spinning
Which accounted for the noise
The up was perfect
And that was the day he believing in existing
He resented his
I mean, words can't
What must have went on in his brain while he stared into a
Of a work of art which he created and was at the same
The mind can't handle that much, it's insane
It's like reading a book where each describe your thoughts
And in quotations, it reads you say when you talk
You think it can't
But it did
I there's surprisingly wide cracks in each life's sidewalk
He stumbled upon an when he never had a question
And decided to stop dreaming to his mental health
Now he hardly to people
Just in his basement
Writing infinity, by himself
himself
This is a universe
Is it all just a
In the universe, is my consciousness useless?
Are we really something a higher made up?
A figment of imagination colored by a cosmic
Maybe all of our art creates the of other beings
Then every character in ever thinks it's alive and were just gods
Ruling
a theory
I don't know it means
But that's the story of the man who trained himself not to

He saw a paining that told his whole life story
He witnessed the of the word "existing"
He once saw a painting that told his whole life
He colored his theirs, and concluded he wasn't living
He once saw a painting that told his life story
The hidden that all that is is art
And when I close my eyes, I see as a story
A God the God that imagined me
And I am God
And so on